


Carnality

by Anonymous



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, Cunnilingus, Desk Sex, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Edging, F/M, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium manaia, Mention of drug injection, Orgasm Denial, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, Voice Kink, sacrilege kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:54:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29970798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: At last, Meredith gives into her carnal desires
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Meredith Stannard
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6
Collections: Anonymous, Nobody Expects the Dragon Age Smutquisition





	Carnality

**Author's Note:**

  * For [19thcenturyfox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/19thcenturyfox/gifts).



> Word of warning: if references to drug use make you uncomfortable there is a description drug injection and track marks.

She knows what things they say about her in the city. _Oh, the Knight Commander has gone mad. Oh, the Knight Commander is vile and cruel._ They all say it, each one under her command. All, save Cullen.

Sometimes before drills she’ll wait a moment before approaching to hear what they chatter about. It’s usually Thrask who asks lowly about her, suggests that she lost her way. _I have seen madness,_ her precious Knight Captain says. _Meredith is not there yet._

Yet.

 _Yet_ he says, as if he believes she will. Yet he says as if he wants to taste her madness, have the lyrium on their tongues combine.

Yes. She sees his glances, the way he always turns to look at her after delivering a report before he parts. He’s always turned. She’s always known.

When the time is right, she’ll make him believe in something.

* * *

“Knight Commander.”

Cullen stands in the doorway. Purple shadows line his eyes, and there’s a certain hunch in his armored shoulders that indicate a weariness. But he looks at her so as he delivers his status report, handing it to her and giving a cursory overview. For posterity’s sake she looks over the papers before setting it on her desk. It’s late and it’s quiet, no one else out.

It's time.

“Good work,” she says, drinking him in from the red sash around his waist to the top of his golden head.

“Is there anything else you need?”

She leans back in her chair, presses her thighs together. Your hands, she wants to say, your mouth, your cock.

She says none of it, though she rises from her chair and calls him, “Knight Captain” before standing by his side, shoulder to shoulder. She’s thought of this even before when she first noticed his lingering looks how she will tell him. He’d do anything to protect the city—the whole of Thedas. He came to her bruised and broken those years ago—jumpy and twitchy and she knew he’d be malleable. He has no lover at present either, and she knows he must lust as any lusts as she lusts. They’re not so immune in what they do, to search of carnality and sin.

It’ll make it easier.

“Is there something else you need?” he asks, shifting. His eyes sweep over her as they always do, pupils so wide she can barely see amber.

She smirks. “Let me show you.”

He furrows his brows but doesn’t say anything as she takes off her gloves and her gauntlets, pulling her sleeves down as well. Purple bruises line her wrist from where she injects the lyrium nightly. Once a while ago when they had traitors in their ranks, she showed Cullen. The lyrium is more potent when it’s injected in the blood, and in her office that night she showed him off. He still does it. She sees the bruises against his wrist when he takes off his gloves and gauntlets when he’s idle. He tries to hide it. She wishes he wouldn’t. She wishes he’d bear his scars with pride.

“See this?” she asks. “This is what we must do.”

He swallows. “I know.”

She traces his jawline with the pad of her forefinger. How he shifts at the touch, draws himself closer. He isn’t used to such tenderness. Adorable really.

She pools, but she allows the ache. He’ll satisfy soon enough. “You really don’t believe what they say about me, do you Knight Captain?” she asks, continuing to trace his jaw.

“I…”He gulps. “I defend you always.”

“I know. You are a good boy.”

He perks at the praise—subtly so, but it’s there. “I do what I must.”

“Let me see yours.”

He hesitates but does so for her, Meredith taking the gloves and gauntlets from him and setting it behind her on the desk. It’s as she suspected. There are purple bruises along his wrists from where he injects. He breathes heavily as she takes his rough, calloused hands. Bare for her as hers are bare for him.

Oh, to have them everywhere.

She is bolder next, pressing her palm to his cheek, thumb caressing his cheekbone. He’s haggard and weary and yet when she touches him he shivers against her. His earlier response as well as this confirms what she already knows, that gentle touches are foreign to him and that though he may inhabit the Rose, he has no lover.

That, and he wants her.

“Kiss your Knight Commander,” she says.

He stares at her in dull shock, though he doesn’t recoil. He's confused, though mostly for the sake of decorum. He is her knight captain. But she grabs his wrist, pulls his body into hers. “Training,” she calls it. On how to be a lover. She’ll teach him how to please her.

"You want to please me, don't you?"

"I--"

But he nods. He nods, and his eyes betray him. They are still plated and yet she can feel his heart hammer just as steady as hers. He tenses yet he gazes at her red, swollen lips from biting them in anticipation.

“I—”

“Are you afraid to Cullen?” She grips the back of his hair, pulls and tugs. “You certainly aren’t afraid of the Blooming Rose.”

His cheeks further redden. He didn’t know she knew. “You want. You lust," she says. "There’s nothing to be ashamed of.” She pulls him closer, whispers in his ear. “I’ve wanted you.”

He’s tentative, but he rests his hands against her hips, grips. His hardness grows against her as surely as she pools.

He grips harder. “How long?”

She’s won. “Since you came to me bruised from Kinloch, ready to do whatever you must. Now.” She traces his lips with her thumb and commands, “kiss me.”

He does. Maker his kiss is strong lyrium mingled with innocence and naivete, Cullen too tentative, too gentle for her liking. She shoves her tongue into his half-parted mouth and he understands, deepening their kiss as she sinks and slides against the hard wood of her desk. She clings and she claws and their armor piles against the floor. Their upper halves bare, she perches herself on her desk as Cullen still kisses—though he moves on to her neck. No good. She takes the hair at the base of his neck and shoves him downward to her breasts. His eyelashes fluttering against her skin he pauses before she commands him kiss and not just kiss—use your hands, touch me, make me feel good.

He has both the sweet touch of a farm boy eager to please and still new to love, and the reverence of a pilgrim kneeling before Andraste. She is his Andraste and he worships and kneels and doesn’t protest when she opens herself up for him, pulling off her skirt and smalls so she’s completely bare.

“Be a good boy,” she says. “Make my come. I’ll suck you if you make me come.”

She’s not some delicate maiden who needs gentle thumbing against her clit. She needs his hard and rough fingers. When he is delicate at first, using his forefinger to circle her clit she presses herself closer to his face. There is no more preamble. He encircles his lips over her clit and sucks. She moans as he makes her drip, pressing his head into her. His eyes are closed as he drinks, closed in bliss. She spreads her legs wider and wider and when he presses a finger inside her she comes hard and fast, the sharpness of her orgasm surprising even herself. “That’s a good boy,” she says to him, pulling him upward undoing the red sash around his waist, pulling down his skirt for him to step out of. She admires his hard cock, forward and straining. It makes her smirk to think how giving her pleasure arouses him so.

She caresses his hipbone, making him think she’ll touch his cock. She doesn’t. not yet. It makes him bite his lip.

“Would you like to come?” she asks, smirking.

“Yes,” he breathes, desperate.

She is firm. “Beg.”

“I—I want to come.”

Not good enough. “Who am I? Who do you want to make you come?”

“Make me come…” he says, before adding “Knight Commander.”

She shakes her head. “No. Meredith. Beg. Say please. Get on your knees.”

He obeys without question, falling to his knees and cock still straining. He prays before his Andraste. “Kiss me,” she orders, naked on and he does, pressing a kiss on her ankle, and then the other. “What do we say?” she asks once more.

His golden eyes are lined with blue from the lyrium when he looks at her. “Please Meredith. Make me come.”

He’s been such a good boy, and she tells him so, motioning for him to rise. She grabs him in her hands and rubs the precum at his tip. There is no mercy as she grips and jerks. He can take it like she can, can stand rough love and want. But oh—he’s going to come quickly if she does more of this—he tells her he’s close as if his moans don’t let her know, as if he doesn’t turn redder and more erratic.

It stops. He doesn’t get to come yet. Not when she isn’t done. She keeps her hand wrapped around him before sliding her hand up his taught abdomen and chest. Her Knight Captain is a lean, well built man with strong arms and broad shoulders. He makes her— wounded, older, bruised, alive as lyrium, as potent as the first draught she ever took.

“Would you like to be inside me?”

He nods all too eagerly. Truly a sight. “Say it.”

“I want to be inside you.”

She could come from his begging, the strain and innocence in his usually commanding voice. She outstretches her arms and orders him there. Breasts pressed against his chest covered in golden hair, his warm cock presses against her inner thighs. She guides his hips, let’s his tip tease at her entrance. He’s inside slowly before he drives himself to the hilt. He’s fucked before but sweeter touches are newer to him. His earlier reaction to tenderness before madness were proof of that. He’s fucked before but she wants to fuck him like no other.

She slaps his ass to beg him harder because she won’t break. That’s why she picked Cullen. He’s a strong man that’s picked himself up and pulled himself together and he is good inside her, exquisite in sweet stretch. She wants to hear him as she comes on his cock as he spills. “Say the chant of light,” she orders.

He does. He’d do anything she asks. "Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide—”

“My name,” she interjects. “Say my name in the Chant.”

He thrusts in and out, in, and out, her fingers at her clit, rubbing and rubbing. “Though all before is shadow, yet shall M—eredith be my guide,” he breathes. “I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond… For there is no darkness in Meredith’s light and nothing that she has wrought shall be—”

Lost.

She looses herself on his cock, convulsing around him before he can finish the prayer. He groans and before he can spill inside he withdrawals. She finishes him with her hand, pushing his own away, and he comes hot and sticky on her hands and thigh. Sweet carnal bliss to be covered in him, this evidence of their joining.

Her Cullen. No one else's.

“You will tell no one,” Meredith orders, rubbing his seed against her thigh, Cullen dazed still, in awe. “You will tell no one you are mine.”

“Will this happen again?”

How she wants to laugh, rejoice, How she has him so completely and utterly.

“Cullen," she says, "I’ve always had you. It will happen again."

He dresses and he leaves quickly, no fanfare. He looks back though, as he always does. Come morning, when he comes to her as Knight Captain again to her office, she says "tonight."

He nods.

She smirks. He's hers.


End file.
